Traditions
by Snorcackle
Summary: The Smiths have never been a particularly traditional couple by any standards, but something happens that might challenge their typical lifestyle just a bit.


**AN:** Just a little bit of fluff. I don't own these characters

* * *

The Smiths didn't have a house, so to speak.

They had a mailing address, yes, but it was at her parents' home. Neither of the Smiths actually lived there. They lived out on their own, not homeless, simply houseless. Neither of them took a paycheck. Neither of them had even held a job since about two months after he arrived in town, and then they'd quit, disappearing and reappearing at random intervals.

It was rather fun for them.

Instead of being pinned down to one place or time, Rose and John (or the Doctor, as Rose called him) went on adventures. They would adventure through time and space, to other worlds, to other galaxies even.

It had all started, in a way, in another universe. The Doctor had been cloned from another man of the same name, and he had been stuck here, with Rose. He had all of the same memories, all of the same feelings, with the only difference being his technical species. The Doctor –the _other_ Doctor- had left him with a small piece of the TARDIS, his wonderful spaceship, in hopes that he might be able to grow another from its seed.

With that seed planted, Rose and the Doctor –_her_ Doctor- had to wait quite a while until it was fully grown. They settled down temporarily with her mother, father, and toddler brother, living in a wing of their mansion and spending a great deal of their time exploring the English countryside. Once the seed had fully grown, however, it was off they went, exploring the universe.

They hadn't gotten married in town, either. Travelling through space and time gave them special rules. They could call themselves married and no one would be able to argue otherwise. Rose rather liked it that way, as did the Doctor. They'd never been much for traditions, anyways.

In fact, neither of them had given any hint of wanting to follow any sort of tradition until a few months of travelling had passed, when Rose awoke one morning, quite sick. That was odd, she thought. She'd never had much of a problem with the natural motion of the TARDIS, primarily because she couldn't feel it most of the time. The food was the same as ever: sterile, prepared from a nice clean machine. They'd spent much of the last few days in relatively low-risk environments, so she certainly couldn't have caught an infection –could she have? She wasn't entirely sure. She ran to the nearest bathroom to relieve her stomach of its contents and then sulked to the kitchen, head pounding.

The Doctor was already there, tea brewing, toast popping up out of the toaster. He'd had to sleep more in this human form, which had been much appreciated by Rose, but which was also quite inconvenient for running around the universe, especially since he only had one lifetime now. It took quite a bit of time. All of this eating did, too, for that matter, with three square meals a day. How did these humans function like this?

When Rose entered the room, he threw her a cheerful smile before noticing her grim face. Without even asking, he just walked up and wrapped his arms around her, one reaching behind her back, one pulling her head to his chest.

"I wouldn't recommend that if I were you," she mumbled into his shirt. "I think I might have caught something. Best if you didn't get it, too."

He took a step back, frowning. "Well, Rose Smith, I may be _mostly_ human now, but that's still only mostly. I've still got some old Time Lord tricks up my sleeve." He pressed the back of hand against her forehead. "Nope, not a fever." He took a look at her ears, squinting his eyes down the tunnel that quickly faded to darkness. "Not an infection." He laid his ear against her heart, listening to the beat and checking her wrist with his fingers. "Not food poisoning, either."

"You can tell that from my temperature, heartbeat, an' how my ears look?"

"Yep." He popped the p, smiling as he moved his head further down to around her stomach. "No, you're definitely not sick, I can tell you that. No, Rose," he said, standing up straight once again and flashing her a crooked smile. "Nothing at all. You're just pregnant."

As what he just said dawned on him, the Doctor's face fell from a smile to a look of absolute confusion. Rose knew the look well: his brow would bunch up a bit, his eyes would be focused on something that wasn't actually there, and his mouth would hang open just a bit. "Now how did that happen?"

Rose laughed at him. "Well, I could explain it to you, but I think you oughtta know already." She stuck her tongue between her teeth and smiled.

"Huh."

And, before Rose knew it, the Doctor was lifting her up, spinning her around their little kitchen, laying kiss after kiss on her face. "Rose Smith, you are going to be the most brilliant mother ever," he told her between kisses. As he put her down, he laid one last smooch on her lips.

He then became frantic. "Rassilon, Rose, what'll we do about this? You can't go adventuring like that; I mean, that's our _child_ in there and I'm not taking any risks! And what about when it's ready to pop out of there, _then_ what's going to happen? I know I'm a doctor, but I've never done anything like _that_ before. And I'm not sure the TARDIS is the best place for a kid, Rose; I'm _really_ not. It deserves a more traditional life-"

Rose silenced him by putting a finger to his lips. "It'll be alright, okay? There are plenty of safe places to visit that we haven't tried yet, and you're forgetting that this is a _time machine_. When the time comes, fly me outside of a hospital and send me in. It's not traditional, but since when have _we_ ever been traditional? We'll be fine." She smiled, making him relax a bit and smile as well.

* * *

As the Smiths got into bed at the end of the day, they began talking about names and such.

"How about Alistair for a boy?" the Doctor suggested, laying his head against his pillow. "Or maybe Vislor or Adric. Any of them, really."

Rose wrinkled her nose. "I dunno. Not really my sort of names."

"Alright then, they're still on the table. Girls names?" the Doctor replied, smirking. "I was thinking maybe Nyssa or Leela or Romana or something like that."

"Where do you get these sorts of names from? Gallifrey?" Rose asked, propping her head up on her hand. "How about something a bit more traditional?"

"Since when were we traditional?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Just get on with it."

"Okay." The Doctor pretended to think. "I've got a couple more names up my sleeve. Well, a dozen more. Well, a lot, as in _a lot _a lot, but they're good."

"I'm listening. Have at it."

"Barbara."

"Too old. That just sort of sounds like the sort of name one of my mum's friend would have."

"Victoria."

"Sounds a bit better. Keep going." Rose smiled.

"Tegan?"

That one seemed to strike Rose's fancy. "We're still not done talking, but I sort of like that one."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She thought for a minute. "Alright. Any alternative boys names?"

"Hmm. How about Ian?"

"Possible. Not my favorite, but it's better than the others you mentioned. Go on."

"Ben?"

"That's a bit better, but I'm not sold on it. Got any more?"

"What about Jamie?"

Rose thought for a second. "Hmm. Jamie." She looked at her husband, who had propped himself up next to her. "I like it. We've got a few months, so that might change, but that's not a bad name."

"A traditional name for a non-traditional human. I like it." The Doctor leaned over and swiftly kissed his wife. "You know," he added before being claimed by sleep, "as far as being non-traditional goes, I think we've sort of got it down pat."


End file.
